


A Perfect Giantess

by treefrogie84



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Background Relationships, F/F, F/M, M/M, Moondoor (Supernatural), truly terrible jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-15 11:38:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12320310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treefrogie84/pseuds/treefrogie84
Summary: For the first time, Sam is NOT sharing Dean's tent at Moondoor. Whatever shall he do?





	A Perfect Giantess

Sam didn’t really have much choice. Dean and Charlie had been planning the Moondoor jubilee for months, they’d found new garb to play with, found other hunters who would be willing to man the phone lines for the weekend…

He had to go.

At least he has his own tent this time, instead of sharing with Charlie, Gilda, Dean, and Cas. He loves his brother and almost-sister, but being the fifth wheel got old long before there was anything to be the fifth wheel of. 

And… having his own tent makes it a bit easier to indulge in his own late night activities without an audience.

He gets there after dark on Thursday, when most of the tents have already been pitched. Dean points him towards his tent with two mugs of something in one hand and a plate of food in the other before dragging him over to the campfire between their tents. 

It’s a good night for this-- cool and clear, nothing worse than a battle with foam swords on the horizon. Sam relaxes back on a log with his family, watching as the camp comes alive and the lightning bugs dance. They’re passing around something that Charlie calls fairy juice and Sam calls a hangover in a bottle, gossiping about other hunters, trading stories back and forth, tongues wagging looser and looser as the cheap rum takes effect.

Dean’s about halfway telling the (still hilarious) story about the bartender in Arkansas and his first black dog when Sam notices her.

She’s hovering behind them, in the deepening shadows between the tents, a round face, pale in the firelight, already wearing her Moondoor garb. Motioning her over, Sam calls out, “C’mon over. We can share.” before reaching over and snagging a spare mug from the basket Charlie keeps on hand.

She’s a lot taller than he expected when she approaches-- at least as tall as Cas, maybe even taller. Passing her the wooden mug, Sam shifts so she can share his log. Quietly, she takes the offered mug and seat and murmurs ‘thank you’ in the break of Dean’s story. 

Sam spends the rest of the night paying more attention to her than to the chatter. He tries to get her name, but she only offers her persona name-- Aleama-- before disappearing into the dark between the tents. 

 

Morning finds Sam bent over the seat of the nearest port-a-potty, losing what remains of his dinner and possibly every meal from the last week. Retching into a port-a-potty might be more torturous than Hell, it’s certainly far more disgusting. The only upside is that it’s Friday morning, so it’s… as clean as it’s going to get.

Once he’s feeling slightly more human, he pulls one of his garb shirts on, wraps a kilt around his waist, and goes in search of breakfast. He’ll have to change later, he refuses to have battles in a kilt after the first time, but this is as close to jeans and a t-shirt he can get right now.

He flinches when Dean’s hand lands on his shoulder. “Mornin’ Sammy! How was your night?” 

“Please, don’t yell.” Shrugging off Dean’s hand, Sam sighs. “You know how my night was last night, you were there until I went to bed.”

“You have a tent to yourself and you still didn’t…” Dean whistles. “What’d you do wrong? She was into you!”

“I have…” His stomach tries to rebel again when they reach the dining tent. “Can you get me some coffee?”

Pushing him into a chair, Dean snags Sam’s mug off his belt and disappears. Sam relaxes into his chair, trying to ignore the twist in his guts that says being here is a bad idea. Dropping his head to the table, he wraps his arms around his head to better block out the light.

He tries not to flinch when an unfamiliar hand runs up his back, followed by the soft thunk of a full mug next to him. “Sam, I mean, Merwin, are you alright?”

Shifting, he looks up at Aleama where she stands next to him. “Shit, I mean, yeah. Just…”

“Too much alcohol last night?” She quirks a smile at him before pushing her mug his way and sitting across from him. “It’s black, but you look like you need it more than I do.”

He smiles at her, “I couldn’t… I…”

“Drink the coffee, Sam. I saw your brother in line, I’ll just trade for yours.”

Nodding, he fumbles at his pouch for the painkillers he keeps in there. Swallowing two with a swig of coffee, he offers her the bottle just in case. “I uh, didn’t expect to see you this morning.”

In daylight, it’s clear she’s even taller than he thought last night, nearly as tall as he is. She’s wearing some pretty basic garb-- a split skirt and tunic, both in heavy fabrics-- but she moves like she wears it a lot, even if he’s never seen her before. 

She shrugs, stabbing a piece of fruit with her fork. “There’s not a lot of us, but we’re here. And the food is much better on Fridays.”

Nodding, he has some more coffee. It’s already helping, clearing away some of the hangover fog and settling his stomach. “It really is. I’m glad we could get away for all three days for this one.”

“Her majesty’s jubilee is an important occasion.” Aleama grins at him and Sam feels his mouth curve into a smile of his own.

Dean chooses that moment to drop a mug of coffee between them. “Hey, Sammy. I’m gonna go…”

“Go _away_ , Dean.” Sam snaps. He turns to watch Dean duck out of the tent before turning back around. “Anyway, annoying brothers aside…”

“Sisters aren’t much better. Always up in my business, wondering where I’m going all the time.”

“They don’t know about this?”

“No! They’d want to come with, instead of letting me have one thing that’s all mine.”

Sneaking a look at the clock that hangs (discreetly) on the center pole of the tent, Sam smiles and holds out his hand. “I have my own tent this weekend instead of bunking with the queen and her guards. Maybe… we can come up with some other things that are all yours?”

Aleama bursts out laughing. “That was a _terrible_ line. Do you also want me to take a look to see if you’ve won first prize?” Gathering their mugs and her bowl, she knocks into his shoulder anyway. “Kiss me first, then we’ll go bird hunting.”

Standing, he slides a hand into her short blonde hair, tangling his fingers in it. He doesn’t have to lean down nearly as far to kiss her as he’s used to, angling their mouths together. “Is that all it’s going to take?”

Her mouth is sweet like the strawberries she’s been eating, almost completely covering up the taste of the coffee. “Yeah, I think so,” she breathes out, before kissing him again.

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the story it was supposed to be. Originally, it was going to be much much longer... until it came time to write it and I just didn't want to write that much for this. 
> 
> Sam won [first prize](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTm6Dt2iAXY). Whether or not he's regimental is up to you.
> 
> [Bird hunting](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Iue8p_HG18) is a very important skill at RenFaires.


End file.
